Chaos
by OurFerrisWheel
Summary: Escape is not an option, not when he's around. Gotham's a dead beat city, with clique sob stories plastering every corner. The one time I end up running down an Alley way was the first time I met him. He leaves me with a small present upon our first encounter, a scar. How else do you expect him to meet and greet? He's the Joker and I'm an 'innocent' lets see how far that gets us.
1. Chapter 1

**Enjoy my fellow mutants (I know that was such a marvel thing to say and we're here in rainy DC Gotham), i'll try and update my other fans pics ASAP...:D Now lets put a smile on that face!**

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Chapter 1.

The snow felt heavier than all the months of Winter in Gotham, the temperature clawed beneath 30 degrees Fahrenheit, or that's what the weather reporter said. But for most of the tenants who refused to leave their low heated flats of the apartment complex I live in, it was probably one of the worst Winters they had experienced from at least the past decade. Walking back from Gotham County High had always daunted me as long as I could remember. Most kids hated school, but unfortunately for myself it was probably the only thing I could call escape. I'm seventeen now and i'm hoping to leave school and my 'home' when I go to college, that's my plan. To be honest, Gotham County is the most dead-beat educational facility in this town, so the hopes of many succeeding to go to Gotham State University was small. Of course that wasn't the only university out here in the land of hopes and dreams, but Gotham's black listed; so most uni's outside of our great City hastily take in some students, only the best of the best.

Having an IQ of 148, I guess I could say i'm probably one of the best, and believe you me I am not one to boast about grades. Good enough in comparison to my peers, I have never taken drugs (apart from the occasional ibuprofen.. not just for the headaches….) and I steer clear from alcohol. The assignments I do are about are graded B's and A's, so I guess I'm not that half bad. I have a job at an art store on North Avenue, it's full of suave rich little stores and café's that sell god damn croissants for over $20. Despite everything, I dress up well and tame my frizzy dark blonde hair into a bun, and set off every other day. The pay's not exactly great but complaining would make the pay nothing at all, I can get enough.

However as any plan goes, there is a flaw. The reason why I'm doubtful to leave too soon, or the reason why i'm leaving so soon after school at all is because of my dead beat father. He may seem nice on the outside, but the bruises and scars all over my body, say differently. My mother left him 7 years ago for France, and a younger man for that matter. She sends postcards on birthdays, that ultimately get burnt by my father's cigarette lighter. Despite looking after me in a Holy Catholic nature for about 10 years, she was never cut out for the material aspect to motherhood...so basically motherhood. So she and her lover left for France, my father and myself knew that it was bound to happen, she would always take a chance and flirt with anything that moved. I guess God gave her the right to do so, she was blessed with angel-like features: soft blonde hair, pouty perfect pink lips, cat shaped blue eyes. The eyes of everyone in a room on her. Once she left, my father who strangely despite his present behaviour of abuse towards me, turned from a kind, caring papa to the shell of a man who kicks, punches, burns and stabs me whilst profanities spilled from his sick ridden mouth.

Being brought up in a religious home means...Yes, I guess I do believe that there's a big man up there looking down on us with his long white beard. It's hard to come across who lives in the bad side of Gotham is a Catholic, because most of Gotham has lost faith in their City, and also in what's good.

I take everything that monster does to me, and every bitter remark of his daughter being the reason 'she left' so that Toby doesn't have to. Sorry forgot to mention, the whole Daddy hits me Gotham cliché is the reason why I want to leave, but the reason I can't is because of my younger brother Toby. He is eight and he doesn't even know what our mother looks like, he just knew that 'Mommy is very busy and she can't come home'; he's the reason why I can't leave. The only two reasons so far I got from my father's abuse towards me and not Toby, is because over my dead body he will ever harm Toby. My brother is the most important thing to me, next to my education, and there is no way in hell I would let him be put in danger. My second hypothesis… no no theory (hypothesis' need to be tested out and I will not stand for that) is that ever since the my mother's absence from our lives, our father has downgraded women as 'thieving filthy gold diggers'. Men to him are superior, this sexist ideology is influenced by the lack of women high in profile in Gotham itself. Well their used to be one called Rachel Dawes,(a district attorney) but she died seven years ago because of the Joker. No wonder. Even if.. and I mean if... Toby was my half brother, our father will swing his fist first as me, and believe me I have not gone without speculating.

As my mother was blessed with her beauty, I was cursed with it. Toby only had her eyes, he has a small resemblance of our father, chestnut brown messy straight hair and same facial features, but none the less is innocent and kind hearted. I myself was the opposite, I had darker hair than my mother, but I has his eyes. His distasteful hazel-green eyes. My skin was paler than both of theirs, but you could tell I was my mother's daughter, Adaline's the name by the way. I guess my growth spurt is about as finished as a hare in a race, as I stand at 5"6. We're both skinny, myself and my brother, with father's okay paid job as a clean up man, for a certain Italian mob _(we don't mention work)_ that is mostly spent on booze, cigarettes, a huge stash of porn and food only for himself, as well as my job at the art store of which a quarter of the pay goes to makeup to conceal scars and ever going bruises, we keep ourselves just above malnourished.

This is the kind of cliché Gotham sob story that's all around the poorer East end area. That's where we live by the way, it wasn't always like this, we lived in a house along the good side of our great city, mind you just the three of us before Toby was born, great garden, nice views of the good side. Our mother despite religion, was a high end entertainer, who used to go to the large casino clubs full of rich old mob men and gold diggers. As for our father, surprisingly enough, he was actually a cop and good I gather, by the respectful glances from older cops when passing the Police station to Toby's Elementary school, Gotham Elementary _(Everything in Gotham is called Gotham)_. When Toby turned one, she left no doubt with one of the casino's french mob visitors but the physical abuse came after three years. In stages of abuse: first it was just verbal, then physical, then life threateningly physical. Thank god Toby was a quiet baby. He'd ask me now and then why 'daddy' does it, but I can't answer.

Can I really explain the reason I was passing out from blood loss over a stab wound whilst paramedics arrived JUST in time was because our mother couldn't handle being, our mother? He knows about the abuse, but I tell him to keep quiet. I make up stories that hopefully one day becomes my life of how when I get out of school I'll whisk both of us away to live in another apartment. No more abuse, no more pain. There is no way I'm letting the city's social workers know about this, I can take the pain, but I cannot handle them taking Toby away from me.

These are the thoughts that run through my head ever single day, sometimes I formulate new and more improved ideas into sync of the plan. I left school early, to be honest the teachers don't check, the maths test we did I had finished 40 minutes before due time ended so I had time to go to the library and check out a novel that I need to start on my english essay. The book safely in my bag, I put my cold hands into my mother's old coat pockets that hangs loosely above my figure. The black detail once polished and pristine, had become worn out and matted. The only reason my father hasn't burned the damn thing was because he sort reason for me to have the coat, many thanks to the big man up above. The cold did not have a great impact of the streets of Gotham, people didn't come out as much, but Gotham always seemed busy. My route after school is always simple, I go to the store with as little money as I have, I buy the expensive camouflage make up (or as I liked to think expensive) that covered the bruises and scars on my arms and face as well as food for the evening. I pick up Toby from Gotham Elementary and head off home, making dinner before the monster comes back from 'work'.

I buy the expensive make up because i'm allergic to many of the chemicals they use in the lower priced products. Having a rash collide with a bruise does implicate suspicion.

I check my watch, 15:29, I have 31 minutes to get to the store and collect Toby from school then go home. I rush. Definitely running with the huge risk of falling on my ass, but from looking at the current time, I head down towards the subway knowing a short cut to the avenues from Gotham State Library through an alley way _(yes, EVERYTHING in Gotham is named Gotham)_. Cold and scarily harboured by the homeless and other dangerous folk, I skid/ run towards the avenues my bag pounding on my back urging me faster. The ground was not covered in snow, so I don't know how I tripped but I managed.

My eyes widened as I realised with in a short space of time there were broken glass and syringes in front of my view. A small shriek or scream escaped my mouth. My hands and body inches away from getting torn from tendon by tendon was saved in a moments flash. I felt two large hands wrap around the sides pulling me back with my saviour from the glassy pavement. My hands cling on to their wrists in a criss cross action. My breathing intensified as I pulled back but lingered on to the stranger, resting the back of my head on their chest ( his chest) my eyes staring at the instruments of fate that could've sliced my palms.

Suddenly I realise what I'm doing and quickly release myself from the stranger, surprised that he didn't chuck me away the second my escape from the glass and syringes. I turned around still within a short distance from him, noticing his attire, he was wearing a purple green suit of some sort he was tall, probably 6'2 ft, and his built strong but lanky. Before I could meet the eye of my saviour, something fell out of his grasp. Gasping as it made a clanking noise of a small shard of metal my instincts told me to be thankful for his presence and I knelt down to pick up the object. It was a switch blade. Sweat then began pouring down my forehead, with shaky breaths i stared at the stranger's shoes. Getting back to the height I was once before, my eyes soon met with the eyes I had only witnessed before caged inside the television we have in our sitting room. His dark pools, were also accompanied by the malicious cheshire grin, smothered and outshone by his coat of flavoursome 'war-paint' with the stench that literally made me suppress a gag. I was in fear, I was in panic, I was at death's end.

He sensed this some how and stretched the smile wider, the smile I always saw from the aftermath of a bank robbery or a murderous hostage tape. The only thing I could think of was how this was going to end. I just then realised he was holding out his gloved hand for the switch blade I had picked up.

"Thank you." my voice is small like a prey to a predator, this only made the insane clown cackle with delight.

"Oh the pleasures all mine, doll." he said grabbing the knife from me.

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**Please tell me what you think, any opinion is appreciated :) I want to thank those who have read this chapter, I revamped it a little so those who have had the time to read it before may notice only minor hicks. Thank you Thank you Thank you for reading... :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you so much to those who have spent the time reading and reviewing, I want to thank those who have enlisted my story as one of their favourites or one of which they are following. Please feel free to look up my other stories, have a pleasant read... :).**

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Chapter 2.

"You're the Joker..." I kept my voice kept small, my eyes widening like saucepans as fear fused into my blood.

"Perceptive, aren't you doll, and quite youn-g too." He says looking down at me, sending shivers down my spine. He continued to do so staring at me through out our little greeting. "Shouldn't you be in school?" he continued lingering after the last word. I release the breath I held and replied.

"I got off early, we had a maths test and I finished it before everyone else."

"Ahhh." he says in understanding, "Looks like you're a little bit of an Einstein, doll." I looked up at him, but undoubtedly gazed upon his scars for a moment. They didn't seem like much to me, just two traces of pervasively broken skin, I have enough to fail at keeping count. I looked into his eyes, that seemed to have darkened by my short glimpse and I smile again.

"I'm sorry to have caused you trouble, thank you once again but I must be going." I say in the most calm steadiness as I can barely manage. Before turning around, I was thoroughly pinned against a wall, with a knife to my throat his face inches away from mine, his green tinged hair lingered on my face. Fear and panic swept up my air ways, I wouldn't breath... I couldn't.

"Why leaving so soon, doll? Is it the scars? Wanna know how got them?" his voice growled against my ears. I whispered a 'no', but this only made him more manic. He wavered in a howl of laughter that of which i'm sure made shadows of passers-by dispart the tunnelled subway immediately.

"I don't care about the scars. I need to go, please just let me go." My patience decreases with this man despite the fear that I hold. Somehow interrupting him was a bad idea.

"Ohh. Is that so? _You need to go_? Do tell me what is so important, that you have to shorten our little en-coun-ter." he emphasises the last word yet again, still having that small knife against my throat, his breath warm on my cold face. He sucks on the insides of his cheeks, the noise making me physically want to gag. I don't answer, instead I try and turn away from his breath, minty, and try not to intake the toxic stench of his 'war paint'. This was a bad idea, his grip on the knife tightened even more if it was possible, and his left hand had grabbed a handful of my hair to put my head in place, my eyes only looking into his dark orbs.

"You know sweetheart, I'd hate for you to be on my bad side, don't want your pretty dollface too close to my little friend here." he placed his knife against my left check, running the knife down to my neck again. I don't flinch. I steal a glance from him yet again, but this one was not of sadistic humour, or any of that I see from the mug shots publicly shown on the news. It was one of confusion.

"You're gonna be hard to crack, what's your..uh... name doll face ?" He says before licking his scars.

"Adaline." My voice is less corse than i'd have imagined it to be, but I kept it quiet and prey-like.

"Ad-a-line…" he spells out testing it on his tongue, "Well... Adaline...what ? Huh?" He pressed.

"Adaline Jill Hansen" my voice is barely a whisper, but he manages to catch on.

"Jill... Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pail of water. Jack fell down and broke his crown, and Jill came tumbling after. Huh...lovely name doll face, just beau-ti-ful." He says lingering onto the last word, before balling up over a fit of laughter; making my ears ring with discomfort.

"So... Miss uh...Adaline, you know the situation you're in?" My eyes widen, but I nod along this was never going to end well, he continues to look at me as if savouring every facial expression whilst sucking on the insides of his mouth. "I'd hate to do this to you doll face, you've got so much potential and intellect. But that's Gotham's society for yo-"

Before even finishing that sentence, my instincts kicked in and finally I kneed the Joker in his special boy parts. With him stumbling back, I took my chances and ran towards the ending to the tunnel I had hoped to cross before the encounter. I jumped across the sharp pieces of glass and syringes and continued running never looking back. Closer and closer I saw the snow covered exit, It was barely 3 meters away before a hand grabbed the back of my back of my bag. I yelped and quickly removed my arms from the handles of by rucksack only to hear the 'thud' of it crashing against the floor away from my soon-to-be murderer. I could tell some things spilled out. Continue running, I was only barely a few centimetres from the alleyways exit when the very same hands grabbed my waist and pulled myself against his front. Before I could scream, a gloved hand wrapped itself over my mouth, as much as I bit into it or clawed it was not released. He dragged me further away from the exit, next to my bag and slammed me on to the wall yet again, I groaned. Well what do you expect, the clown prince didn't play nice. The switch blade focused on my neck once again and his face barely inches away from mine.

"Hmm, looks like you got a little fight in you little Ad-a-line. I like that." His voice growled in my ear even though he wore the frightening scarred smile. I knew what was going to happen, why bother screaming and clawing at him, he wouldn't take the sympathy gag. I stopped breathless my warm exhales in contact with his scarred face.

"Just do it already." I answer back, my eyes flash no emotion, my breath steading slowly.

"Straight to the point. You don't uh seem scared, my little Adaline?" he questions, clearly this was not the reply he was expecting.

"Yelling, kicking and pleading for my life will not satisfy you enough to let me go, I understand?" He nods agreeing. " Then what's the point, just kill me now and get it over and done with."

"Eager I see, hmm what makes you think I want to kill you?" He asks pressing the knife to my throat.

"From the way you're holding that blade and _your eagerness_ to stop me running from this alley way." He tuts me, as if talking to a child who answered a question wrongly.

"Doll, you're far too serious for your own good, if I wanted to kill you I would have done it the moment I saw you." I shift away from his face but he grabs me making me look at him.

"At-ta-ta-ta-ta doll, keep your eyes on mine." I look away still trying to get rid of the firm clutch he had on my face.

"_Look at me!_" he yelled, even when his voice changed to as if he was a caged demon I still didn't shudder. Submissively I look into his eyes, awaiting the fury that was to come.

"Wanna hear a story, doll?" He doesn't wait for my reply, so starts off.

"My father was a drinker and a fiend and one night he goes off crazier than usual. Mommy gets the kitchen knife to defend herself. He doesn't like that, not one bit. So,...me...watching he takes the knife to her, laughing while he does it. He turns to me and he says 'WHY SO SERIOUS!?'. He comes at me with the knife 'why so serious!?' Sticks the blade in my mouth like this."

He stuck the switch blade into my mouth, furious that I still didn't flinch. He continues, "Lets put a smile on that face!" My eyes lay steadily on his as I wait for my demise, my breathing slows down calmly. I shut my eyes as I know how I will end, and start praying. I know I know but if there is a God then hopefully I'll be on his good books. Quietly without hastily moving my lips too much, I began.

_"Our Father, Who art in heaven  
Hallowed be Thy Name;  
Thy kingdom come,  
Thy will be done,  
on earth as it is in heav-" _My whisper was quiet enough, I thought I would have been the only person to hear myself; but It seemed I was wrong.

"What are you doing?" I open my eyes, and look at the Joker's perplexed face. He sucked the insides of his cheeks yet again. I can't reply back without ripping my mouth open, so I look down the switch blade and up again at him. He notes his, with no gentle ease he did when he pulled me from the glass. He pulls his blade back but not without placing a quick nip at the corner of my mouth. I react by a small hiss, but return to my normal facade.

"…..Praying." I reply, he still less than inches away from me, but i'm allowed small movements like raising my fingers to the newly fresh cut on the corner of my mouth. He laughs, starting from a small giggle to a colossus roar of humour. Later, he pants clutching onto his side, pretending to wipe a tear away.

"You really are truly incorruptible, _aren't you? _The big bad wolf strikes and comes out to play and when he strikes you, you surrender. No weakness shown, all for what hmmm doll, _ALL FOR WHAT?_ As soon a... uh...my little friend here sits on your face, you turn to the one person who planned this. My my my, Adaline, you surprise me."

I stand there, stunned absolutely in doubt of what to do. Does he want me to run again? What does he expect me to do? Suddenly _(okay not so suddenly I did realise it was going to happen), _he puts his hand through my hair and yanks it back, making me look up at him. I hiss in pain as the leather gloves did not comfort the strain of my hair being pulled by the roots. I glare at him but later decide that's a bad idea, then result to staring at him blankly.

"I don't want you ever to do that again."

"What?"

"Don't talk to h-i-m, Adaline." he says darkly.

"Oh" I reply understanding it's the man above name I shouldn't say.

"I mean it, doll, say it."

"…..No." They always say you should be cooperative with your murderer, I never understood why. You were going to die any way. I guess when he slammed my body against the wall and grabbed my throat with his hands, I understood why. The pain of leather gloved hands strangling me cutting off my airways was too much, blood trickled down my split corner down my covered neck.

"No?" He shrieked with laughter.

"No," he managed to loosen his grasp,"I'm going to die, and if _he_ exists I want to make sure all ends well. I'm not going to follow orders from some crazy person moments before I go." Poor choice of words. Very poor choice of words.

In a moments heart beat, I was back handed by the Prince of Chaos. The intensity of it slammed me on to the cold dirty ground, of which could've been urinated on.

"I'm not crazy." he growls, crawling away from him I shy towards the exit. I hear the switch blade being pulled out, but do not stop my efforts of getting away. Trying to stand up, I'm helped strangely by the Joker himself. His hands are on my my sides and he pulls me up to only be pinned on the wall yet again. He looks at me, then stares at my split lip.

"God, is the treacherous old fool who sees things how they are and makes them more despiteful... riddling his miracles into humanity in forms of disease, pain and misery. I've guided lost souls down the righteous path show then what they would be, what they are. I have set them free from the horror's of this world that 'God' had created and released them to the freedom they deserve. They are now longer shackled as a prisoner of forced life.., this city is infested with lunatics wielding knifes, guns and bombs over it's 'innocents' but let me tell you something, doll face. There are no innocents, the only way we can be free from our slavery to those who leave us to rot, is by gaining their attention. No matter what we do, our 'God' never pays his attention to us... Most certainly not to Gotham." His tone was dark, but he spoke quietly, almost softly.

His nerve wracking speech, left me puzzled as to how to reply, I remain quiet staring at his eyes and wait for him to continue. This whole analogy wasted before my very untimely death that was to come. I felt strangely content that The Joker has spent a fair amount of words on me than he had with his other victims, and believe me I've watched a couple of his 'home made' videos.

"You know, it's a little rud-e to call people names. I...uh... think you owe me an apology, doll." He pushes the blade further to my neck, licking his scars.

"You called God a treacherous old fool." My my I seriously need to learn to shut the fuck up. He bellows in another roar of insane laughter before. I swear his eyes darkened even more out of proportion.

"Bloody Christians, all little self sacrificing do-gooders." He breathed out, though I thought he was just talking to himself, "I'll make you a deal, doll. Don't ever say his name again, or talk to him, and I'll let you live." My eyes widen with shock. This was the most craziest things ever, the Joker was actually going to not kill me. There's a catch.

"Why?" I ask.

"Why what? Why am I letting you go, oh doll face that's quite easy to explain..." He stopped talking for a while that I though this response was nothing more until I heard..."You intrigue me...I am a man of my word, now say it doll." he breathed in closer to my face, it would've been stupid not to ignore the humorous glint in his eyes as I stood there in shock. My mouth open but no words coming out.

"Adaline." he pressed on, slightly annoyed.

"I..I won't say his name or talk to him." I stumbled, clearing my throat the first chance I got after saying that sentence. Looking into his eyes, I could see the anger that consumed him moments before, his face if possible had softened… you know for a genocidal psychopath.

"Good girl." he said patronising me by patting my head as if I was a dog. "Now you won't forget me will you, doll?" I shook my head 'no'.

"Oh looks like the White House isn't the only thing that needs to be filled with honesty. I don't believe you...ah...doll face. It doesn't matter, beautiful, you see I got a small gift for you." He takes his knife from his jacket pocket whilst running his hand into my hair yanking it backwards. His scars are so close to me now I can see his eyes running down my neck. My coat is not zipped up and the t-shirt I now wear before me will no doubtfully stain bad.

His switch blade placed just below my clavicle, he dived his knife across my upper chest. I felt the blood trickle down me and the stinging pain of cut flesh. As every second passed he drew out another centimetre, looking into my eyes the entire time. Little did he know I had years of training myself not to give in to pain. I didn't flinch or look away. I stood there, biting the inside of my own mouth as the blood erupted from newly opened skin. He stops half way above my breast bone and took his knife away from my skin wiping the blood off on his purple jacket and flipping it back into his pocket.

"Now now, you better run off home and make sure that doesn't get infected." He replies admiring his work, I take my coat and zip it hiding the newly drawn scar from his view. He walks the way I came from slowly with his hands in his pockets, he starts whistling.

"This isn't the first time I got scarred. I think I can manage." I reply bitterly. I shake off the stinging feeling and grab my bag. After that comment, I think it's a safe bet that I should just walk away without looking back. I lift my bag up and zip it. It doesn't feel any lighter, so I take off trying to get miles away from the clown prince. I don't unsuccessfully. Coming up from behind he grabs my left wrist _(I swear he's really clingy)_ and spins me around so I face him.

"You know, I'm guessing from your in-ter-est-ing appearance, you live down the Narrows or even East end…. you heard of the Batman, doll? He's uh a little friend of mine.. Yes me and bats go way back…" He sucks his cheeks again, ignoring my glare that, if looks could kill, could cause three daggers lunged in his face.

"Any how… if you see him batting around doll, you...uh... call me. Here's my...ah...card." he said shoving a Joker card at my empty hand.

"I'll see you soon, Adaline." he walks away into the shadows whistling, leaving me standing my mouth open emitting warm breaths to the cold atmosphere. His manic laughter echo throughout the alleyway, leaving me questioning whether that just really happened. It's was only moments after I realised he was whistling to_ Strangers in the Night._

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**Hope you've enjoyed reading... :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**I just wanted to say that this story is set seven years after the devastation the Clown prince of Chaos brought to Gotham, so that means you may see some other Gotham characters in the mix, but remember Bruce Wayne is still grieving, the Dent act means crime is now not as dangerous as it used to be, but still is high. Thanks for the review from ****_KaneCenaZombie12_**** and ... :) and for all you who have added my story to your favourites or following. :) **

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Chapter 3.

I set my sights on my watch and note that it's now 15:40… WHAT ?! I pull my rucksack around me again and run into the light, the subway ended as I rose up the stairs leading me to 5th street. The Avenues aren't that far away. Walking into the snow, I can smell the stench of my metallic blood but not from the open wound I now bare across my chest. Looking down I notice my fingers entwining with the Joker's card are bloody. Covered in my blood. I throw away his card watching it before it hit the ground, infecting the White smooth snow now crimson. I begin to pick up my pace running through the 10 inch snowy side-walks. Wiping my blood stained hands on my coat, I stop once I met with a set of traffic lights, the green man appears on the LED circuit and I find myself walking towards the other street, luckily through out this new journey I did not once trip or fall on my ass.

Walking along the avenue and past the art store that I work in, _(they'd hardly recognise me by my look)_ I head off to complete my mission. First stop, the make up store, called 'Silver Berry'. It was possibly one of the most cheapest cosmetic stores on the avenue, but most definitely was expensive on my low budget. I usually save small stashes here and there, but this time it's an emergency and all I could do is hope they have some Snow mist camouflage foundation for discount prices.

Once I'm inside the store, i'm met by glances of disgust from little bratty rich 13 year old Barbie's. Honestly if you're parents are rich enough to purchase designer frickin' socks surely you should shop somewhere else with more expensive designer eyeshadow palettes. Ignoring their stares, I walk up to the counter and smile at the very familiar shop assistant, Marie. She used to work with my mother, that's how we know each other. One day I came into the shop and she called out my mother's name "Marilyn" …... well stage name. I always knew my mother was the best entertainer, but I never realised how much of an effect she could have on her co-workers. Marie, always told me stories of how beautiful my mother was and how whenever she sang, even the most tough-nut mob boss' such as Caramine Falcoln would shed a tear. We talked about our lives, she was the 'mom' I never had… so to speak. Our friendship meant that sometimes when times were tough, she'd make small discounts on things I had to purchase. She knew if she told someone, it will all be over but i'll never see Toby again. She's the one I'm counting on right now.

"Hey Marie." My smile widening as I come near her.

"Oh hello dear." She comes around the counter and gives me a hug. The only people I voluntarily let do this are Toby and Marie. She pulls away sniffing slightly her suspicions replaced with a scowl.

"What did he do this time." she says full of concern.

"It wasn't him Marie, I'm fi-"

"No. You are not fine, I can smell the blood miles away." She whispers, looking right to left, cautious as if someone heard.

"Honestly Marie, I'm fine…. I just cut myself accidentally… honest i'm okay." I say and place my award winning fake smile that no one can pass by without believing every rotten lie I spill.

"Alright dear. How are you Adaline?'

"I'm coping, It's Toby's birthday today I've been saving up for 6 months and I bought him his present last week. I hope he likes it. the kid deserves something good from what happens to us everyday." Last week I went to a little toy store around the corner from Toby's Elementary. He like every seven turned eight year old, loved action figures and robotic automatic mechanisms. After eying an automatic toy chopper for the past year, I knew just what to get him. The present meant that I was definitely going to quit spending on make up, but only on serious occasions. However, since the beginning of this month the toy shop had restored an old board game section into one that sold toy guns and weapons, from brands such as Nerf and X-shot. Just like any boy, Toby certainly was fixated.

"Oh thats wonderful, oh you're so modest ofcourse he would like it. How old is he now? Eight? he's becoming a little man. They grow up so fast, next thing you know he'll be having girls chasing him." We both laugh. Looking down at my watch I notice it's 15:45 I have to get a move on.

"The usual sweet pea?" I nod as she turns her back on me whilst looking at the huge glass cabinets behind her for my items, a 3 kit set of primer, foundation and toner. The primer was to make my skin afloat or to stay at the same level, the foundation was the basis cover up whiting my blues and purples, and the toner was used to make me look alive. I'm pale okay? but not by my own account. As my Auntie M, as I liked to call her, pulled out the items on to the check out desk, I stop and ask.

"Look Marie, you know I hate asking, but is there any way I could get some of this stuff for say a 35% discount?" I looked at her doubtfully, but I knew the answer as I saw her face narrow uncomfortably.

"Adaline, Honey I'm sorry but I can't risk it. Not this time. The boss' been watching me closely now and I can't risk losing this job."

"I know," I say looking down at my shoes."Im so sorry for asking… I have to go, I'll pop by soon. Bye Auntie M."

Before she could reply or ask me back to the store, I rush out of there. Not without risking a glance at the bleach blonde Barbie whores, who smirked distastefully. The streets seemed more gloomy, it always is in Gotham, but at least it was not raining.

Instead of going to the store, I decided that I should just order Chinese. I walk down to Toby's school that took me about 10 minutes after passing the sweet store of which I bought a 200g Hershey's Bar for the little man. 15:54's the time and i'm waiting for the bells to ring. I place the bar inside the inner pocket of my coat. Putting my hands in my washed out blue denim jeans pockets, I took out the crumpled $20 and $4 dollar bills straightened them out and organised them into ascending order (left to right). The make up would have rafted away 2/3 of what I have. Surprisingly $10 was not enough to buy a Chinese meal for three from where I lived. This is why I always take a small amount of powdered heorin, my dad's stash, and trade it for food. He hasn't noticed ever, and I'm hoping he doesn't.

The bells go off and the excitement of leaving school tolls as kids burst out of the doors. I wait patiently for my brother's dismissal, feeling slightly light headed from the attack. I see his messy brown hair lunging from the crowd and his smiling face as he sees me, he nudges into my hip whilst my arm goes around him. We stay like that for moment before leaving the school premises. I scruff up his hair even more, in a sort of kid-rockstar way whilst he tells me about school.

"A scientist came in and told us all about space, he said we could all go to space if we want, but we have to get good grades and work hard for that."

"There's always a small print, Toby." I reply.

"Then after lunch, the whole class sang 'Happy Birthday' to me and Peyton Clarifison kissed me because I pushed Simon Diez who pushed her. She's my girlfriend now." He smiles and I laugh, happy that he's finally got to the stage where he, close enough, openly announces he's smitten for her. I've been dragging out days on end, asking him if he likes her because of how much our 17 to 8 year old conversations revolve around her.

"Did Simon hurt you?" I ask my voice strictly full of concern.

"No. But he hurt her." I acknowledge the way his voice changed, almost demonically like the voice of the monster we call our father. I have a short fuse but my, Toby has our father's temper. He cannot control it or at least he can when only a small group of people can calm him down. Mrs Prelez, Toby's form teacher understands him so does Marie. This makes us the only three people who could calm him down, apart from our father. Toby is scared of him despite not having a fist raised towards him. It was understandable, it was our norm.

I stand still and pull him by his hand before me, I kneel down so I'm face to face with my brother. "Toby, you need to control it, if you don't it can harm you and innocent people."

"I know A."

"Toby it's as if you're not even trying…"

"I _am_ trying. I don't want to hurt people," he paused, "I don't wanna be like Dad."

This conversation can only get worse If I start lecturing him about the rights and wrongs, so I stop scolding him. "Please don't be mad." his little voice break my heart, every time he asks me not to be mad. How can get mad ? He's just a child.

"I'm not mad, just worried." I pull him into a hug and release him checking the time on my watch, 15:09, Pulling him back I look into his innocent blue eyes and think of how he doesn't deserve such a shitty gutter life like the ones we have.

"I know a very special boy, who is even more special today. Come on, let's get some take out and go home. Hmm?"

"Awesome!" he said grinning from ear to ear. "Can we have Chinese?"

"Great minds think alike, kid."

His eyes widen with happiness as we walk continuing talking about our day. Around the corner is the best cheap-dig Chinese take out on the block. The owner, we all know is a coke addict but sometimes when I haven't got the right amount to pay him for food, I sneak a little stash toward him. However I haven't got coke on me, but something tells me diacetylmorphine would be enough to make the young man happy.

Ordering the food and a six pack (I wasn't going to let him hit me today because I forgot his booze), I decide to pay him in full and keep the heroin. Just incase I need it to bribe him another time, or another junkie for that matter. Gotham's packed with them. I put my left hand into the coat pocket feeling the small slippery packet of white powder and push it further into the fabric, before removing my hand from the compartment.

After waiting for the take out, I grab it and head off home with Toby, adjusting his rucksack on him before letting him walk beside me. Our journey's short but not the least most dreading. This time however, I'm hopeful that whatever lies behind those doors, won't be as bad as the days before. Usually, when he remembers Toby's birthday, our father sparks up for the occasion, even buying presents for my brother. I know not to make a big deal out of the kids birthday, but I do so because he's a kid no matter what, and every kid deserves a birthday.

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**Thanks for reading, :) hope you've enjoyed it so far. Yes Adeline does get it quite hard in life, but from meeting our favourite Gotham villain somethings may change for the stranger.**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4.

We reach the apartment complex, running up the stairs to the 7th block, considering the lift is always broken. This time he wins, well I let him. Panting as we continue to walk past the beating rays of our neighbours apartments, the cliché cat lady and meth-lab workers, we reach the door. The crooked number 47 rusting as every second goes by. I give Toby the take out and beer to hold, and turn my bag around, fumbling for the key. I found It after digging through my entire bag, relieved that it didn't escape after the Joker's second capture, jamming in into the key slot I open the door.

"Okay, go put the food and the beer on the table." I say, instant my deed is done as Toby was out of my sight along the creaky hallway. I know he's here, because his boots were wet with snow and …blood. Well what can I say, he's a clean up man. The apartment was cold, so I decided to keep my coat on. I walked passed the 'barely used by me and Toby' sitting room towards the kitchen. Our apartment's small so we don't have a separate kitchen to dining room, we eat at the kitchen table together as a family, despite how dysfunctional our family is. Walking into the kitchen, I see our father. He'd actually cleaned up himself, must have been a big job, and was sitting on the table as if waiting for us.

In fact, the whole scene around me felt surreal. The kitchen wasn't littered with empty bottles of whiskey and used syringes. The floor wasn't covered in dirt or grime. Even the head-shaped hole in the wall (I'm guessing you could put two and two together and figure out how it occurred) was covered up, with one of the old quoted canvases we still kept from our old home. The canvas was bright pink and read out "There's nothing like staying at home for real comfort- Jane Austin". Oh Jane I thought you were more perspective than that.

The air was thickly scented with bleach even the Chinese couldn't distinguish it. My eyes rested on the table that happened to have a soccer styled birthday cake. It had a small boy-like icing figure who was blonde and white skin wearing soccer attire, kicking a black and white ball on a green pitch near a goal post. I guess it was supposed to represent the birthday boy himself. Underneath the soccer pitch, in red writing read out, "Happy Birthday, Toby." I look down at Toby who was setting out the table, his head was down as it always is when I was getting beaten or begging my father to stop. I stopped begging years ago mind you.

I walked up to Toby and asked if he wanted to get out off his coat, he did, so I helped him. Helping set the table, I go up to the the wooden cabinet that keeps clear glasses and set out three beside each sets of the plates and cutlery. I noticed the oven was turned on and something was inside it, the room smelt like Italian lasagna. Unbelievable it was to believe he cooked a meal for us. Once I helped my brother, I looked at the man sitting on the table. His greying brown hair covered in gel, rested in a formal manner away from his face, he was wearing a dark brown shirt and black trousers, trousers as if part of a three piece suit. His gaze was on Toby, as my brother pulled out a chair and remained seated. I did the same, watching as the monster turned from Toby to the take out. Finally his gaze rested on mine and I lowered my eyes as if not to pull a nerve. Once I was sure his gaze was else where I looked back up, just in time to allow a shiver down my spine as he began to speak.

He smiled, "Happy birthday, son." he spoke ruffling Toby's messy hair just alike his own, but his was greying and combed back.

"Thanks daddy." Toby said still looking down unsure of whether to look up.

"No problem, Did you have a nice day at school?" he asked softly.

"Yes daddy, I had a good day." he replied flinching so slightly as his hair was being smoothed down by_ him_.

"That's great son." he smiles but this simple gesture is a tonne worse than him scolding or shouting at me, at least I knew what to do then.

"Here look," he says picking up a box and placing it on the table. It was wrapped up in dark blue decorative paper, with silver ribbons tied up at the top to form a huge silver bow.

"I got you two presents." He also pulls up a brown envelope and places it onto the table together with the box in front of Toby. It's clean and free from any creases or folds.

"Why don't you open up the box, eh?"

Pulling the box closer to him, my brother hesitantly looks at me. My father sees this, without looking at him I could see the fury in his eyes. I nod and smile encouragingly at my brother, who starts to unwrap the box. His eyes widened as he pulled out the latest Nerf model sniper, the Nerf Bolt Scar-365. The 'gun' was detailed with blue plastic accurately as if it was an actual sniper, you could tell it wasn't because of the infamous bold colours, dark blue, grey and orange. The package showed 6 luminous green darts that went along side it. you could tell it was one of the newest toy weapon the toy shop sold.

Toby placed his new present on the table and slowly sunk his hands back in his lap, "Thank you, daddy." he says again, this time looking into our father eyes.

"Anything for my boy." He pats Toby's head again, continuing to ignore the flinching.

"Here, one more to go. Why don't you take a peek at the other one." Obediently, my brother took the envelope on the table and peered into it. His eyes widened more than when he saw the toy gun. He continues to stare at whatever is inside of it, before our father spoke.

"That's five thousand dollars, son." He smiled devilishly." You can spend it on whatever you want, okay?"

Staring at the envelope, my brother dropped his gaze before looking me in the eye. Before returning it to my father's.

"Do you like the cake? I got one of my pals to do one for you." Taking out a knife from a knife set on the kitchen top behind him, he pulled the cake towards him, cutting out a slice and putting it onto my brother's plate.

"There you are son, take a bite yeah?" he smiled encouragingly.

"Why don't you wait after dinner? You don't want to ruin your appetite." I call out. Quickly, my dad turned his attention to me. His smile diminishes, into a look of pure hatred. His eyebrows creased together as he began to speak.

"Why you late?" he asks coldly, losing the smile he once had moments before.

"I went out to buy food, and your beer." I reply keeping my voice low without drawing any spite. He looks at the beer for a second, chewing on something before looking back at me.

"I'm was already making dinner, _you little bitch_." He screams, whilst slamming his fist down on the table. I saw Toby's behaviour shift to pure fright, I knew I just had seconds until our father loses it.

"Toby, take your presents and go to our room, please." I ask curtly.

"NO" he screamed again, causing shivers to run down my spine."You stay right there." he growled at my brother. He turned his gaze from Toby at me again.

"Talking' the big shots are ya'? Tryna' be the man of the house are you? ANSWER ME, YOU FUCKING CUNT!" He remainder seated but still gave he the cold hateful glare that was as familiar to me as long as I could remember.

"Stealing my money, and spending it on this crap!" he shouted before taking a swing out of the Chinese. The meal landed on the floor, decorating the bleach smelling tiles with chow mein and lamb stew. He pulled up the knife and dragged it through the six pack, grabbing a bottle and using the blade to open the cap. Whilst taking a swing of the beer, I reply back to him.

"I didn't steal your money I have a job at the art store, remember dad?" I say. Inwardly taking a step further away from the man, putting my hands in my pockets comfortingly.

"DON'T YOU DARE LIE TO ME !"

"I'm not dad! and if you'd think for a second to be sober enough or not high on smack all the time, YOU WOULD REMEMBER!" Never in my life have I ever shouted back at him. He's the one person I would never talk back to, or hit back. It was in this moment I realised, that I had fucked up.

Placing his beer on the kitchen top behind him, suddenly he flung the table over causing the cake to lay splat on the floor whilst the beer clashed with the hard floor. Broken glass was every where, Toby's present had smacked the floor and the money . He stood up with fury pushing the turned table away, violence radiating from his eyes.

Grabbing my little brother's hand, I drag him out of the kitchen before any harm could come to him. He quickly got the motion and ran to our bedroom locking it, before going under the covers of the duvet. I knew he would because that was the routine we were always bet on. I turned my gaze from the hall way to the man walking towards me from the kitchen counter, who's eyes darkened and never broke away from mine. Putting my hands into my mother's coat pockets, I knew what was to come so I prayed that the intro to the main act was shortened.

He came closer and closer to me, looking as if he was ready to punch me into another wall. I pull out both my hands from my mother's coats pocket unaware of the small packeted substance that fell from the grasp of the compartment. Slowly after realising my father's shocked face that then intensifies with the eerie calmness which was worse than his anger. I look down at what he was staring at. Shit. Grabbing my hair with one of his hands, he pinned me onto the wall. The sound of my own heart beating was all that I heard, before he growled into my ear.

"You don't steal from me? huh?" He slices a punch into my stomach, I hollow in pain.

"ANSWER ME!"

"It was just for the food, incase I didn't have enough." I manage to groan out.

"FUCKING LIAR, just like that slut of a mother of yours." He barred out, before a moments flash, he bombarded me with punches in the stomach and ribs. I felt empty, surely I should be used to this by now; but no the big man with the huge white beard made sure that every punch felt more painful than the last. I doubled over sinking onto the messy floor, the scent of bleach invading my airways, his feet lay directly in my line of sight.

Spluttering and coughing trying to kick some oxygen back into my lungs, I felt defeated. Just like every other time he beats me. I can't feel him hitting me anymore, so I look up to see if he stopped. As soon as my eyes met his, he grabs me by the hair and roughly throws me onto the other side of the room, making my head slam against the wall. I felt dizzy, white spots threatened to invade my vision. However my moment of bliss of not being thrown or hit or punched was short lived.

"You know, everybody says that you look like her. _I don't see it._ My _wife_, you mother… was pretty, a fine looker. You just look like a cheap dirty whore. You're one ugly looking' bitch, a Dumb." Kick.

"Ugly." Punch.

"Fucking bitch." Kick.

He received no begging, as I never gave him the satisfaction for it. Every kick or punch I earned was worse than the last. He aimed anywhere, a kick to the face a punch to the stomach, anywhere. The white dots threatened to make another appearance yet against they always do as I was pounded, battered like a piece of meat. The smell of something burning was the only thing that subsided the strong scent of my blood. He kicked me below my clavicle. The area where the Joker marked me, I screamed in pain at the contact, this being the first time I reacted to the wound. The next sensation I felt was him dragging me up by my hair, not as rough as the Joker's did but rough enough to make me groan, letting water trickle down my eyes. He looked at me with a sadistic smile curling on his lips. Hazel green eyes locked together with my very own.

"Such a fucking ugly cunt, bet you're not even mine." Those were the last few words before he aimed his fist at my face repeatedly. I was sure he fractured my nose, he did it again and again and again before we both heard the sound of his phone ringing. The sweet sound of Fool's Gold echoed in the room, making my father stop. Leaving me on the kitchen floor, stirring on broken glass and ruined cake. He's feet covered in clad black leather dress shoes just in front of my eyes, looking almost ready to aim for them. I looked at them anticipating his move as he dug out his phone from his trouser pockets.

"Uh yeah?...Alright I'll be there in ten." He finished the call only to put his phone back in his pocket. I could tell he was looking at me, contemplating what to do. He went back to the chair that he sat on moments before. It wasn't moved at all. He grabbed his leather coat, not before turning around to face the kitchen unit. I could tell the oven door opened because a waft of smoke filled up the air, choking as the hot steamed air slapped me across the face. He put something onto of the kitchen unit, taking his half empty bottle of beer and walked towards the hall way not before passing me and spitting on my broken body.

"Food's on the counter." Was the last thing he said before opening the door and leaving from it, slamming it loudly at his expense.

I stayed there, in my spot staring at the still turned on oven. The fire alarm never went off, most of the apartments in our complex were damaged, fuses burnt, appliances out of order. Nothing in this side of town was ever reliable to say without a doubt. I tired to move but I didn't want to, my chest, my neck, my legs, my face, my back ...just hurt. In the end I just resulted into staring at the open oven, burning my eyes with it's hot air leaving a small pool of tear drops below my face onto the floor. I felt the white spots invade my vision and dizziness take over, my eyes closed as I became unconscious.

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**I'll try and update more :)**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5.

After a couple of hours, I woke up remembering what had happened, he beat me till unconsciousness. I pulled myself up resting against the wall sitting down on the cake and glass covered floor and gently traced my face with my fingers touching the broken skin that the glass had caused. Bruises I knew I had to cover with the limited amount of cosmetic material I had. Some how my eyes were okay, well apart from my left which I'm guessing will be swollen and purple for about a week. My face remained slightly bloody the right side just above my jaw and below my ear where the glass was perched on. A facial scar, that's something I thought I would never get. He was usually careful not to rough up too bad, it would cause suspicion otherwise. He'd be back in a morning or two.

I got up from my position, clutching onto my chest as I moved closer to the oven switching it off. The room was covered in a purple tinge of air, I look around the room and see the burnt out lasagna on an oven tray. Hot air still rising from it. My eyes look for that to the whole room, once pristine and bleach scented; now floors and walls covered in blood, cake and broken glass not to mention the disproportion of furniture such as Toby's chair and the kitchen table. Even the Jane Austin quote that was slanted on the wall, threatened to fall down. Money was spilt everywhere and the toy gun to the side, still intact as it was being held down by it's packaging. Starting to clean up the mess, I picked up all the notes and carefully paced them back inside the envelope, the toy I carried with me as I set of to find my brother.

I walk to the room my brother and I share, we share because it's the only bedroom besides our father's there is. I knock on the door and wait until I hear a little lock being closed off. The door opens and I see my brother's tear streamed face. He collided his head onto my hip whilst I drag myself down so he could hug me properly placing his presents on the floor, he clung his arms around my neck and mine around his small body. Wincing with great pain, I lift him into my arms and carry him towards the crumpled small double bed, of which the duvet was lying on the floor. I laid him on the bed whilst he started crying again, sitting on the bed with him.

"I'm sorry...I should've done something." He starts.

"No Toby," I reassure him, keeping him close despite my hurting.

"I'm sorry A, I've let you down again." I hate it when he says this.

"No baby, it wasn't your fault, it was his. He hit me, not you." I pull him onto my lap as he buries his head onto my chest, crying and whimpering. My hand automatically goes through his hair and strokes it moving his messy brown hair away from his eyes, I kiss the top of his head.

"But I didn't try and stop him." He manages to say out loud.

I look at him in the eyes, my voice small but bold. "No one can. You know all I want from you is you to be safe."

"But I don't like it when he hurts you A, I've let you down." More tears fall from his blue eyes, and I feel myself crying again. I grab hold of his arms and pull him up our faces at the same level.

"Tobias Hugo Hansen, look at me. You can never let me down." I say, my voice threatening to break.

"But if I said something, maybe he would've stopped."

"No Toby, remember when we talked about this the last time? He won't listen to anyone, not even you."

"It's my fault, I wanted the take out. It's my fault, it's my fault, it's my fault." He continues to say this over and over again wailing as I draw him even more closer into me if that's even possible.

"No baby shush sh sh sh, it wasn't your fault, it was bound to happen." He continues to cry clinging onto my neck.

"I love you so much baby, I won't let him hurt you." I say whilst kissing the top of his forehead again. He managed to mumble the ILY back, My hand smooths out his hair again and again along with my shushing, whilst his crying turns to small sobs that eventually turns into small sniffles. I pull away from him placing him in the centre of the bed, putting the presents from our father on top of the dresser we share. I pull out my present from under the bed. It was covered in decorative red wrapping paper (it was his favourite colour) and out held a yellow bow on top waiting to be untied. I put the present on the bed and sat down next to it and my tear eyed brother.

"Now I've been waiting a loooooonnngg while to give you this." I say pointing to the box, he looks at me puzzled and I stifle a small laugh.

"Happy birthday baby." I say quietly before hugging him again despite my hurting. He hugs me back before unwrapping the present, his eyes grow wild with excitement, mission accomplished. Jaw dropped he looks at the Dive Flight 549 Speed Syfer, then at me.

"Wow." He managed to respond. "I love it!" I smile at the young boy.

"I'm glad you do."

"I love you A." He knocks me off course as he lunged at me with a great big hug, I felt his lips on my check and smiles as he kissed me, holding on to him as well.

"I love you too Toby." My arms continued to hold on to him feeling his small boned before I managed to remember that we haven't had dinner yet. The poor kid must be starving. With the Chinese on the floor, the lasagna burnt and the cake on the floor, raiding the cupboards would be useless. I pull back from the hug, and go through the inner pocket of my mother's coat and grab the 200g Hershey's bar. Looking at Toby in the eyes.

"Baby, we haven't got much to eat apart from this." Showing him the bar of chocolate."Make sure you eat this all, okay? I don't want you getting hungry and make sure you take small bites so you don't get sick, alright?"

"What are you going to have ?" He quizzes me.

"I'll make something."

"Can't we share it ?" he asks.

"I brought it for you Toby." I reply.

"I don't want you to be hungry, A" he looks at me with those huge puppy dog eyes shoving the candy bar towards me, which I'm forced to hold.

"Okay baby, I'm going to go and get cleared up okay." I say grabbing the discarded wrapping paper and the present off of the bed and putting it in the bin beside the closed window whilst putting the chocolate bar on the night stand. I grab the duvet covering Toby with it. There was no way in hell he was doing homework tonight. He had already dressed in his pyjamas, so I guess I would have to make him shower tomorrow morning, I'll let him off not brushing his teeth today. I went to our drawer and pulled out a fresh set of pj's for myself and other essentials along with my towel.

I head for the door before I heard his voice." I'll wait for you to come back."

"Okay baby, but if you want to eat some don't bother waiting." I say without turning back all the way around, somehow I felt that if I didn't comply he would be more upset than he is now. I didn't want him upset on his birthday, did I?

"Okay." He says enthusiastically as, I'm pretty sure, he reached out for his chopper. I smile yet again no matter how much it hurts and head for the bathroom.

Closing the door upon arrival, I place my items on the sink's counter whilst stripping down to nothing but my own skin. I looked at myself in the ageing mirror above the sink, nearly jumping out of shock by who was staring back. The girl had blood covered blonde hair, her left eye swollen and staring to turn blue rather than a crimson, the lower right side of her face covered in small glass sticking onto her skin. Her split lip was quivered with a small cut in the corner of her mouth, she was harbouring an oozing long slash across half her chest. She looked tired, pale, weak, defeated. But defeated I am not. I will never stand for defeat, I will succeed, I will leave this place... We..we will leave this place. My skin was like a pattern coat, it was blundering with fist shaped bruises and different length of scars. My ribs visible as well as my shoulder blades, I think I was pretty before but there's no proof of it.

I reach for the shower and turn it on waiting for hot water to steam the room. Deciding to pluck out the glass from my face I open up a small cabinet under the sink, grabbing a medium sized dirty white bag that contains tweezers, antiseptic, bandages and other first aid items. Grabbing the antiseptic, I manage to dip it onto some cotton balls sanitising my wound the Joker left me first. It stung real bad I ended up crying again, but once it's done I move on to my cheek which is worse. Despite having a couple of small glass chards on my face it hurt like a bitch, I was done getting all the shards from my face with in 10 minutes. The pain hadn't eased, I applied the antiseptic and jumped into the shower. Looking down at the tub, I saw the water being dirtied with my blood, turning from a colourless liquid to browny red with small bits of skin and hair I managed to scrape away. The water intensified the pain I felt, so I turned the dial so the water remained cold, numbing my body.

After washing with shampoo and soap, I grabbed a towel and set to dry myself carefully not to cause more pain, and bandage my wound the Joker gave me. I lastly touch the scar that had been embedded into my skin 2 years ago, how could one small incident cause so much blood? My fingers trace the shiny skin layer of skin just below the tail of my breast bone, sighing hopelessly. I change into my clothes and wipe the steamed mirror to look at myself for the last time that night. My hair wasn't bloody anymore, neither was my face, but the bruises were still there I managed to stop the bleeding from the cut skin. After putting my hair in a hair tie I found on the counter, I walk out of the bathroom and into the kitchen fastening my watch back on looking at the time that read 21:56. The kitchen was still messy, but carefully I managed to walk towards the washing machine and discard my used clothes. My coat I put on a while before. I start to clean up, pulling the table back the way it was before and push the chairs away before sweeping the floor with a broom that rested beside the washing machine. After putting the rubbish I swept into the bin, I go on my hands and knees scrubbing little areas with frosted icing, coming across the pool of blood, tears and saliva with a wet cloth and a bucket of soapy water. It takes me about 30 minutes to make the kitchen look how it had been before, but the pain was worth it seeing as if it I didn't do it I'll be sure as passed out after beatings like today.

I get up from my crouched position and pour out the now dirty water in the sink, watching it get drained before scrubbing my hands with soap and water. I pick up Toby's coat that had ended up on the floor and leave heading for our bedroom. My eyes glance at the small packeted substance that encouraged my father's abuse, in one final sweep I pick up the packet and throw it on the kitchen counter before walking back to our room.

Upon entering I can see that Toby is fast asleep half of his body inside the warm duvet, his arm slung over the chopper uncomfortably as discarded packaging material surrounded him. Picking up the material, I dispose it in the bin at the far end of our room, and position him more comfortably on the bed.

However I notice that the window's open. Strange, I'm pretty sure I didn't leave it open. With the curtains swinging from side to side I pull the window back in place shutting it before the warm air from our room could escape. That's when I noticed it, a peculiar medium shaped green box wrapped and tied off with what it felt like a purple satin ribbon crossed to a bow. It lay on the floor between the bed and the window, my attention was instantly on the box. I didn't recognise it, anything could've been inside it.

Hesitantly, I knelt down towards the box. I saw a little tag beside it purple in colour with black writing. It read, '_Open me'_ I felt like I was in Alice in Wonderland, but in this wonderland I could be pulling a trip wire of a bomb that could burn me and my brother to death. Out of stupidity I did what I was ordered, pulling the satin ribbon from the green box setting it free, it was long and felt like water slipping from my grip gracefully. Carefully I put my ear to the box, silently waiting for some ticking to indicate whether there was a bomb inside of it. After hearing none, I reached out to open the lid, I did so with no difficulty apart from my aching ribs. Putting the green lid to the side, I was met my a couple of objects coated with a sheet of purple tissue paper.

I pulled the tissue paper from the box to each side unravelling what was inside the box, I gasped, fear and confusion polluting my mind. What I saw scared me more than any knowing punch or kick my father had delivered me. Inside the box lay Snow mist camouflage foundation, with basis primer and rose coated toner. Or as I'd like to call it my usual, it was in the white and colourless packaging it's usually presented with. Next to it lay a box of bandages, a bag of white and pink cotton balls and a glass bottle of antiseptic liquid. A black envelope lay beside the items. Immediately I took hold of it, opening up the envelope that revealed a black and white piece of card. Flipping it on the White side, I read the writing that was also in black.

_Don't ever 'lose' my card, doll face. Nice pick of candy by the way. _

_J_

It was then I noticed the dried blood stained Joker card slotted in between the bandages and cotton balls, that was too narrow to see at first.

_What the actual fu-, how the hell did he come in to my room ?! Screw that how the hell did he manage to enter my god damn apartment?! Oh my God, he could have hurt Toby. _I took a quick glance at Toby and notice he's breathing fine, just resting, my thoughts return. _He knows where I live. He could come at any time he pleases, crap what if my father finds him. I'll be black and blue till Christmas._

Picking up the box, I get to my feet also noticing the opened Hershey's bar and a chunk of chocolate missing leaving just more than half left, on the night stand. _That would explain the message._ I realised that I hardly have enough camouflage make up to last the next few weeks, I walked over to my drawer putting the make up inside along with the nice satin purple ribbon, and lifted the lid from the floor entrapping the other items inside. I had enough medical supplies but a restock won't hurt. So my decision was final, I kept the closed box beside my drawer that contained the things I needed to use on my wound, the Joker's message and card. I walked up to the curtains again, closing them in full this time.

My brother was already fast asleep, closing the door of our room, I switched off the lights and walked towards the bed, minding his shoes on the floor. The bed creaked as I sunk into it my body felt like it was shattering. As I began to pull the duvet over, small hands wrapped around my waist and a head to my chest. I lay on my back, whilst cuddling my brother. His breathing slowed into a nice steady pace. My pain subsided with warmth and rest, as I slowly started to rest stroking his hair whilst looking up at the ceiling.

"Good night, A." He mumbles sleepily.

"Goodnight Toby." I reply kissing the top of his head as we both slowly drift off into our slumber.

* * *

**Well that's all folks... I wanted it to be a short story, you know a small snippet just to show the Joker can do some good for others. I'm not too sure whether i'll be continuing with this story. I guess only time can tell. Well see you soon or not :) Thanks again for the reviewing, reading my story, following it and favouring it :) Cheerio :)**


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